Posts by Samuel Harris10

I’ve been sitting on this thought for a few days, watching the landscape of college athletics shift under our feet, and I can't help but feel like we are witnessing the end of an era. For decades, there was this unwritten social contract—a sort of romanticized, almost mythic idea that college sports were purely about the love of the game, the pursuit of excellence, and the prestige of the institution. It was built on the concept of the "student-athlete," a term that, looking back, feels increasingly like a relic of a bygone age.

We’re seeing a massive tectonic shift in how we view the relationship between large, wealthy institutions and the individuals who actually generate the excitement and the revenue. It used to be that being part of a major university program was seen as a privilege, a way to gain an education and a platform. But as the money involved has ballooned into the billions, the "honor system" is clearly cracking. I find myself wondering: at what point does a hobby become a profession?

I remember watching games in the 90s, and there was a sense of community that felt very different. You felt like you were rooting for a group of kids who were just trying to make something of themselves. Now, it feels like we are watching a high-stakes industry where the players are increasingly realizing they are the primary assets in a massive commercial machine. There is a growing tension between the tradition of "school spirit" and the reality of labor rights. Can you really have both? Can you maintain that sense of "playing for the crest on the jersey" when the economic disparity between the people running the programs and the people on the field is so staggeringly wide?

I don't think it's as simple as "greed vs. tradition," though. That’s a lazy way to look at it. It’s more about agency. We live in an era where we are constantly re-evaluating power dynamics. We’ve seen this in every other sector of society—the push for workers to have a seat at the table, the demand for transparency, the insistence that if you contribute the value, you should have a say in the terms of your involvement. Why should collegiate athletics be the last bastion of the old-school, paternalistic model where the institution holds all the cards and the participants are expected to just be grateful for the opportunity?

There’s also a philosophical question here about what "amateurism" actually means in the 21st century. For a long time, that word was a shield used to protect the status quo. But as the definition of an amateur evolves, the shield is becoming transparent. If you are training like a professional, traveling like a professional, and performing under the pressure of a professional media circus, are you really an amateur? Or are we just clinging to an outdated label because it’s convenient for the universities?

I do worry about the soul of the game, though. If we move toward a more formalized, structured labor model within these collegiate systems, does the "magic" dissipate? Does the rivalry feel less intense if it feels like a clash of corporate interests rather than a clash of campus identities? There is a fine line between protecting people from exploitation and turning a cultural institution into a cold, bureaucratic enterprise.

I’m curious to hear what you all think about this transition. Are we watching a necessary evolution toward fairness and modern rights, or are we watching the slow erosion of the very thing that made college sports special in the first place?

My full support goes out to everyone in the stands—to me, you’ve proven once again that you are the true backbone of this country, ready to take a stand against anyone to defend what matters most.

There’s something uniquely powerful about these recent games, isn't there? Seeing people rally together after everything that's happened, looking the die-hard fans straight in the eye, almost as if to say, "We’re still here, we aren't backing down, and we aren't going anywhere."

Honestly, you’d have to be completely devoid of imagination to crave being so attractive that every single head turns when you walk by. I just don't get it—what kind of satisfaction are people actually deriving from that? It all strikes me as though looking the part has become far more important than actually being—well, happy, or fulfilled, or whatever else matters.

Maybe stop obsessing over those trivial little things—like chasing after some superficial nonsense—and try dedicating yourself to something that actually fulfills you, rather than something that just feeds your insecurities.

I have a completely different take on all of this—but fine, let’s go with it. Perhaps this can serve as a sort of message to my future self. It reminds me of that old TV editor who appeared as a guest forty years ago to record his views and life philosophies, only to sit down recently—now forty years older—to debate those very same ideas with his younger self. Long story short, he couldn't find much common ground; he mostly just looked back at that naive kid and thought, "What an idiot." :/

In that same vein, I suspect we might still be a bit too young to grasp any definitive answers. It feels as though it takes either the weight of old age or perhaps a serious bout of illness to finally allow someone to set their ego aside—to actually see things for what they are and recognize what truly matters.

That’s an interesting perspective—not that mine is necessarily the definitive truth (I’m really just thinking out loud here, posing questions rather than making grand proclamations, mostly to see how everyone else processes things), nor is yours, but I’ll build on a few points you made.

You mentioned that contemplation defines who we are and carves out our character—that through thought, one must arrive at specific answers and goals. Personally, I don't quite buy that. It's emotions that truly define us. We explore, we experience, we live through things, but those raw feelings are what actually tell us the story—whether something is painful, beautiful, ugly, or if it makes us happy, miserable, or sad. You can't simply use logic to override what your heart feels...

In my view, a human being essentially just wants to be happy in the moment; that’s the singular purpose. To achieve that, there are certain needs that have to be met. If you’re hungry, you either have to head out to hunt or go to a job to earn enough to buy something arguably unnecessary.

Then there’s this whole argument about how without thought, we wouldn't have civilization, communication, and so on. But why would a person even need any of that? Do you honestly think you'd be any less "you," or any less happy, if you had been born before civilization in some cave? Your "job" today is to find happiness, sure, but back then, you’d have had a different way to reach the same end. All roads, even today, eventually lead to the same place.

Think about it—why is the opposite sex attractive, and why is sex pleasurable? Because if we relied solely on reason, nobody would bother reproducing. Civilization doesn't survive because people logically decided to ensure the species continues; it survives because it feels good. If anything, human reason only gave us birth control, which is why birth rates are dropping.

You also suggested that humans have evolved relative to the past. I'd argue humans are born exactly the same; it's just the environment they grow up in that changes. If you had been dropped into some primitive tribe, would you be any less yourself? We really ought to distinguish our true selves and our core needs from the external pressures imposed upon us by society.

If banks and money didn't exist, things wouldn't be quite this great, so I'm not sure what point you're trying to make there. Banks are just entities that take money from people looking to save and pass it along to those looking to borrow—their role in this specific debate is negligible. Besides, money is merely a medium of exchange, not an end in itself. What actually enables us is labor. Everything is fundamentally the same as it was ages ago; the only difference is that nowadays, instead of stitching fig leaves together for clothing or foraging for fruit, we perform tasks for a larger group of people, and they, in turn, provide for us.

As for these "visionaries," I don't care to get into a separate debate about them here, nor do they particularly fascinate me. If someone manages to find happiness through their work, more power to them. Behind all the noise, it always comes down to basic, primal needs rather than some grand social responsibility.

Just take a look at the topics being discussed on this forum alone...

Claustrophobia—though, honestly, humans weren't even designed to be cramped up in some tiny shed—we were meant to wander through forests and along coastlines, just free to roam.
Then there’s the search for one's true calling, or how to actually stand out from the crowd—which, let's face it, is often just a reaction to a society that tries to tell you you're worthless unless you fit a certain mold, leaving you in constant conflict with who you actually are.
And don't get me started on adulthood and emotional immaturity—how people aren't really given the breathing room to just be themselves, but instead have these rigid expectations forced upon them, which inevitably leads to that internal tug-of-war.

Et cetera, et cetera.

I’ve been chewing on this lately—really dwelling on it. What does a healthy, or even just a "normal," ratio between these two things look like?

Awareness, I suspect, ought to be a state free from judgment, strain, or the constant urge to draw conclusions—just pure experience. Thinking, on the other hand, should ideally be the process that actually facilitates that.

But what is the actual purpose of thinking? Is there a point to it? Would we all be fundamentally happier if we could just *be*—you know, existing purely through awareness, guided by sensation and direct experience rather than mental gymnastics? To me, thinking often feels like nothing more than a byproduct of negative experiences. Sure, it can be useful if applied creatively, but is that really how we were meant to organize our entire world?

Think about a newborn. They just exist, happy and curious, exploring everything. Then we step in and interrupt that flow, forcing them toward specific goals and reasons. We’ve all said it at some point—how much better life was when we didn't have a care in the world or a single nagging thought in our heads. Why do we even need this cognitive overhead? If we assume that individual happiness is the ultimate goal, then I fail to see why we need any of this. All this formalized knowledge... it doesn't seem to serve the human spirit. You're hungry, you eat; you're tired, you sleep; you feel desire, you follow it. Isn't that how we're wired? Just following our basic needs seems like the only path to contentment, yet today everyone is just sprinting toward some hollow, superficial prize.

Just because someone has BPD doesn't mean it's automatically the root cause of their actions. Take Dahmer, for instance—he had BPD, but that wasn't the reason he became a serial killer; rather, it was seen as this dark intersection where his sexuality collided with incredibly morbid impulses. In my view, every one of these individuals is a unique case study—it’s a mistake to try and shove them all into neat little percentage boxes or one single category. He was an oddity even by those standards, standing apart from your typical serial killer profile. I wouldn't necessarily label him a psychopath; it felt more like he was simply overpowered by his own urges. It’s hard for those of us without the diagnosis to wrap our heads around, but imagine being driven by sexual impulses toward such things—knowing it's wrong, yet finding it nearly impossible to ignore. If he weren't a psychopath, it suggests he likely had to get heavily intoxicated every single time just to shut his conscience off. Psychopaths don't really have that struggle.

I think you’re overstating her obsession with him—honestly. She went straight to another guy's place after the murder and stayed there for a few days, which suggests she had other options lined up. It’s hard to argue she was totally idolizing this one guy when she was already moving on.

And that part where she’s singing? She knew the cameras were rolling. That’s such a classic psychopathic trait—most people would be spiraling under that kind of pressure, but for her, it was probably the highlight of her life. It feels like she only truly feels alive in these extreme, high-stakes situations; the things that bring regular people joy just seem to leave her feeling empty. Even the song choice is interesting—it's hard to believe it was just a coincidence.

"I didn't hear you leave, I wonder how I am still here, I don't want to move a thing, it might change my memory.. i do what i want by i can't hide i cannot be until you are resting here...".

That first link is actually solid—I think it lays everything out perfectly and does a great job explaining the preliminary steps. But I have to wonder... does her behavior afterward actually align with that? If we're following that logic, she should have acted out of pure impulse—you know, driven by a sudden burst of jealousy or that frantic fear of being abandoned. According to that theory, she was the one being manipulated, yet her conduct following the event just doesn't seem to back that up. Instead, she puts on this whole theatrical production—singing during interrogations, turning things upside down, laughing... then at the trial, she’s actively trying to pull everyone's strings. She stays so detached, almost narcissistic, even though it's pretty obvious her defense team was working overtime to help her present a completely different image to the public.